


All Roads Lead to Ba Sing Se

by irisbleufic



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-21
Updated: 2009-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-29 12:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six places, seven romances, and a kaleidoscope of familiar faces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All Roads Lead to Ba Sing Se

**Author's Note:**

> Set roughly 10 years after canon. That's all you need to know! Well, the other thing you may need to know is that I'm utterly unconvinced by more than half of the pairings as they stand at the end of the series, which accounts for the version of how-things-turn-out-in-the-long-run that you see here. I've only just seen the whole series for the first time.

**Ba Sing Se**

It had all gone to hell, of course. 

If there had been anything Zuko hadn't yet worked out, it had been how to keep promises. And if there had been anything that Mai hadn't yet worked out, it had been the signs that Zuko hadn't _really_ been as interested as he'd claimed to be. That had been nine and a half years ago, almost to the day. Not that she was counting.

Numbly, Zuko had asked her what he could possibly do to make amends.

"I want out of here," Mai had said. "I'd like to see the world. On _your_ tab. Make me an ambassador, a diplomat—I don't care. Anywhere is better than this rat trap." She'd been seventeen and bitter. _Well_. More bitter than had been usual.

"You'd be well suited," Zuko had said, nodding. "You're more patient than most of the others I've sent, and if anybody gives you grief, you'll pin them to the nearest wall." He may have become Fire Lord, but he hadn't dropped the sarcasm. He never would.

She'd turned her back on him and left without so much as a salute. With Azula, such insolence would have been unthinkable. For the first time in years, she'd been unable to hold back a smile. Upon returning home, she'd found a royal emissary waiting with her official commission and more gold than she could shake a stick at. She had read the terms of the commission with immense satisfaction.

 _Safe travels_ , the brief postscript had read. _Love, Z._

It had taken her two years to reach the great Earth Kingdom capital, which had fared much better than Omashu, damage-wise. What little rebuilding had been needed was nearly complete, and she'd been pleasantly surprised to discover that the rumors were true: Kuei had returned from his self-imposed, wandering exile and resumed the throne. She'd never had anything particularly against him, although the bear had been a sore trial. She'd been chagrined to receive a heroine's reception.

"Any friend of Fire Lord Zuko is a friend of mine," the Earth King had said. "Welcome!" At twenty-seven, Kuei hadn't lost any of his stupid, endearing naïve charm—but he'd gained a somber sort of gravity that was strangely...pleasing.

 _He doesn't remember me_ , she'd thought, bowing low. _So much the better_.

"You must tell me about your travels," he'd said. "I've recently returned from my own! How long will you stay?" He'd leaned forward a little, toying with his jade beads as if he no longer knew what to do with them. The spectacles had looked as silly as ever.

"Where's the bear?" Mai had blurted, unable to stop. "I mean—a while, Your Majesty."

Kuei had clapped for a servant, delighted. "Bosco has company. Bring him here!"

The King hadn't remembered her, but Bosco clearly _had_. In time, she would grow accustomed to the sticky, affectionate licking. Then, she'd been mortified.

Mai opened her eyes, let out her breath, and took aim. The dagger hit its mark with a _thunk_. Even after all these years, she'd stayed in practice—although the servants had given her odd looks when she'd ordered a target in the shape of a platypus bear for the balcony. As she'd predicted, the difference was sufficient. Kuei hadn't taken offense. And that mad-scientist father-and-son team at the University, Teo and Whatsisbucket, had taken devilish pleasure in designing it.

"Lost in thought, my love?" said a low voice behind her. It had improved with age.

Mai caught a few errant wisps of hair and swept them back, shaking out her long silk sleeves. She turned and set her mouth in a grim, satisfied line of pleasure. He'd grown into the spectacles, and he no longer fiddled with his beads. The short, neatly clipped beard balanced his youthful, too-open face. At thirty-four, he was a prize.

"I was thinking," she said, tucking her last remaining dagger into her belt as she strode to meet him, "that it's about time I let Fire Lord Zuko know that I quit."

When Kuei smiled at her, she could see the sunshine at which she once cringed.

"Notice that's six years overdue is better than none at all."

"Indeed," said the Earth Queen, and grinned at him.

 

**The Fire Capital**

"Your daughter is safe in Omashu, my Lady," June said, crisply delivering the customary salute. The former bounty hunter's tattoos had grown faded down the years, and the corners of her mouth had hardened into kind, handsome lines. "She wishes for me to inform you and His Lordship that she misses you already."

Katara inclined her head and clasped the bodyguard's hands in thanks. "Is there any other news?" she asked. "I trust that our friends are well?"

"The King's as mad as ever. Losing his marbles, if you ask me. He's training up some strapping lad from out in the provinces, name of Haru, seeing as he's got no heir—say, don't you know him? As for that little scamp, my goodness, she's _grown_ , and I'm not talking about your Kya, either. I still can't help but think of her as a tomboy of twelve. She's as big as a war balloon and should burst any day now!"

 _Oh, Toph_ , thought Katara. "She's well, then? No complications?"

"Tough as a badger mole," June replied, folding her arms. "This may be her first, but I bet she'll have an easier time of it than you did." She saluted again. "My Lady."

"Oh, stop it," Katara said fondly. "You can drop in for a casual chat any time you like, you know. Kya's only been gone a week, and I'm bored out of my skull already. There are no trade deals for me to co-sign or public ceremonies for me to oversee."

"I can fix that," Zuko said, striding into the corridor. "June! Where's Kya?"

The bodyguard smirked. "In Omashu, safe and sound. The brat misses you."

Katara tweaked his hairpiece. "About fixing my boredom?" The truth of it was, she couldn't be more glad that their daughter was gone for a while. They'd only just gotten rid of Sokka and _his_ family, who were on their way north for yet another visit.

"I'm out of here," said June, taking her leave with a salute. "You two behave."

"I don't know why we let her go," Zuko said, frowning. "She gets homesick."

Katara touched his cheek. "She misses Toph. And _everyone_."

"Yeah," Zuko murmured. "So do I. She'll send our regards." He slid both arms around her, one hand snaking up surreptitiously to set a playful spark loose at her nape. The royal upsweep had been a compromise, but she'd stubbornly kept her braids.

"I'm still bored," Katara reminded him. This time, the hairpiece came _out_.

 

**Ember Island**

Most days, when she wasn't writing, Azula sat in the shade and watched the sea.

She'd spent three years in the hospital, during which time she'd _almost_ made a full recovery, but had collapsed again at the two-year mark when she'd learned of her father's death by his own hand. Zuko had given him a state funeral with full honors. In an almost-lucid moment, She'd refused the invitation to attend.

Their mother, newly welcomed home and likely the cause of his suicide, had gone.

The summer house was beautiful, restored to exactly the way she'd remembered it. _This is my gift to you_ , Zuko had said to her upon her release. _And my curse_. As if having the Avatar take away her bending hadn't been bad enough. 

When she'd arrived on the sandswept front porch, her mother had been standing in the doorway, an eerie silhouette, flanked by Li and Lo. She'd even been glad to see _those_ old bats, strange though it had seemed. She was home.

The nightmares had lasted a good many months, fever-dreams laced with lightning and flame from which she was certain she'd never escape. Each time she'd awakened thrashing and screaming, her mother had been there to mop her brow with cool water and offer her a cup of Uncle's infuriating, specially blended jasmine-gunpowder tea sent all the way from his fancy-schmancy place in Ba Sing Se.

Azula _hated_ Ba Sing Se, and she hated Uncle even more. The tea wasn't so bad.

"You should write him a letter," Ursa had suggested the next morning over breakfast.

" _No_ , Mother," she'd muttered. But she'd written the letter anyway.

By the end of the week, Azula had written an entire sheaf of letters. Letters to her fucking Uncle, letters to Fire-Bore Zuzu, letters to Her Royal Sulkiness. She'd wondered how the Earth King hadn't died of sheer irony. Letters to Father, which she'd left rolled on his grave. Letters to Ty Lee on Kyoshi Island, which she'd actually sent.

 _Come back_ , she'd written. _I'm sorry. This place is a prison without you_.

And, one day out of the blue, she came. 

Ty Lee was still wearing the somber green robes, but her face was free of the horrible, garish paint. She was pale and thin, insofar as it was possible for her to _be_ any thinner. Azula sat forward, her heart clenched. She hadn't thought—

"You didn't think I'd come," said Ty Lee, simply.

"No, I didn't," Azula admitted, rising. "But you're here."

Ty Lee's kiss held no questions, and Azula's demanded no answers.

 

**The North Pole**

"Those Kyoshi folk," Kanna chided. "They don't feed you well enough!"

"Gran Gran!" Sokka prosted, throwing a pious arm about Suki's shoulders. "We're eating just fine! And! _And_ ," Sokka continued, jabbing a finger at the old woman, "the kids are getting a taste of both worlds. They _love_ my take on your sea prunes."

"I slice up a mean sashimi platter," volunteered Suki, helpfully.

Kanna's suspicious look softened. "Fish, thank heavens! Scrawny as they are, though, they could use some whale-blubber stew."

Sokka's arm tightened around Suki to the point where it hurt, grinning his face off—which in this case meant that he _detested_ whale-blubber stew and knew they were in for a whole month of it. Suki dreaded the prospect.

"Anything but _that_ ," Pakku grumbled, setting aside the bone figure he'd been carving. "When Hakoda returns, he'll have a bucketful of shellfish." He plucked Miri up from where she'd been sitting beside him, bouncing the four year-old on one knee. "I know they're your favorite," he added, giving her a smack on the cheek. Miri giggled.

" _I_ don't like shellfish," said Zei, stubbornly. "They taste funny."

Kanna leaned closer to Suki. "Is he your picky eater?"

"Yes," replied Suki, with a weary sigh. "And you can let go of me any time now!" 

She shrugged Sokka off easily, satisfied with the winded _oof_ -sound he made as his tailbone hit the furs beneath their feet. There wasn't much you could do to soften a floor made of ice. This wasn't their first visit, but Suki always found the first few days disorienting. She could tell that Kanna shared her sentiment, though. It must have been painful for the remaining handful of Southern Water Tribe members to relocate north, but it had been a matter of survival. United, the Tribe's numbers had grown.

"So," Pakku asked Miri. "What do they say about twins in Kyoshi?"

Miri stole a glance at her brother. "We're bad luck," she whispered.

" _Hmph_ ," Kanna said. "Here, you're the best of fortune."

"Miri might be a Waterbender," Sokka said, lowering his voice. "Or an Earthbender. We're not sure yet. It depends on the day. Katara's hoping for water, of course."

" _I_ want to be a Waterbender!" Zei announced. " _And_ an Earthbender."

"He takes after his father," Suki sighed, and Kanna winked at her.

 

**Omashu**

Toph shifted on her stool, planting her feet more firmly in the dust. The two airborne figures whirled past her in a rush, one revolving sphere shakier and less certain than the other. She'd gotten better at seeing people who weren't touching the ground.

"Nice one, Twinkletoes!" she shouted, applauding with all her strength.

"Thanks!" Aang replied from the far end of the training yard.

"I wasn't talking to you!" Toph called back, grinning in Kya's direction. 

She'd learned over time that some people liked a bit of acknowledgment, particularly children. She was fond of her best friend's daughter, and fiercely protective. At six, Kya had a decent amount of her mother's strength and entirely too much of her father's neurotic tendency to overthink. Little wonder, too: she'd overheard her parents' argument over whether or not Energybending was an appropriate procedure on someone so young, and, provided it took, whether or not they should let Aang train her as an Airbender. Fire would have been less socially risky, given her heritage.

Kya had been almost five at the time, and just brave enough to put her foot down.

The baby kicked. Toph slapped her stomach.

"Or _you_ ," she told it. With any luck, the pipsqueak wouldn't be a bender. Less to worry about. She had it on good authority that _she'd_ been nothing but trouble.

"Auntie Toph," said Kya, approaching timidly with one hand outstretched. "Can I feel?"

"Sure, but the little twerp's gone back to sleep," she said, guiding Kya's hand to her belly. "Hey!" she called. "Deadbeat dad! You _might_ want to get over here."

"Oh, no," said Aang, his arrival heralded by a sudden cloud of dust. "Is it—?"

"No, stupid," Toph replied, grinning up at him. "It likes you better than it likes me."

"Can't we say _she_ or _he_?" Aang asked, his hand joining Kya's. The baby kicked again, stronger this time, and judging by the way Kya's arm tensed, her eyes were wide.

"No," said Toph, yawning. "Because we've really got no idea."

"I think it's a boy," Kya said. "You're _very_ big. This way," she added, indicating the protrusion of Toph's stomach horizontally. "Mom says that means a boy. She says I carried small and tight, which usually means a girl. And I was."

"Are you training Airbenders or midwives?" Toph asked, smirking. "What do the other kids say? Good thing they're on holiday break while this is likely to be going down."

She sensed now that her husband was rubbing his forehead with his free hand.

"They're taking bets," Aang admitted. "I think I have a headache."

"Let me know where the odds are," Toph said. "I want a piece of the action!"

 

**Epilogue: The Jasmine Dragon**

The tea house is closed on Saturdays. _No_ exceptions.

Like clockwork, Saturday is Mail Day. In Ba Sing Sei, the post is delivered six out of seven days, but Zuko times his letters such that Iroh gets only one per week. Azula's letters come perhaps twice a month, and it's clear she's working on clearing a backlog that she hasn't had the nerve to send for at least a year. Iroh doesn't mind. He's simply grateful that her mind seems to be back in working order, _and_ that she can no longer fry innocent people alive. He sends packets of the house blend fortnightly.

Saturday, as the staff's only day off, is also Picnic Day (weather permitting).

Under the ancient elm on the outskirts of the city, two shrines are now permanent. Next to Lu Ten's, Smellerbee and Longshot have erected one in honor of their fallen comrade, Jet. When Iroh had first seen the boy's likeness, he'd felt a pang of recognition. He'd been the young man from the ferry—and, later still, the young man to openly accuse Iroh and Zuko of being Fire Nation fugitives.

 _Well_ , Iroh thinks, holding the incense while Smellerbee lights it. _He was right_.

When the pair of refugees had turned up on his doorstep looking for work, it hadn't even crossed his mind to ask how they had survived the war. That they _had_ survived was enough. Smellerbee is an excellent hand at brewing. Longshot's sweet rice-cakes are now the talk of the town, and he has been working on a ginger cake recipe that, in several trials, has proved delightful. Iroh suspects his gut will return.

Iroh will never press them to elaborate. Longshot rarely speaks, but when he does, it's in the measured tones of a young man who knows who he is, who he loves, and what is worth living for. Smellerbee sometimes shares memories of their happier days with the Freedom Fighters, although she's hesitant to even mention combat. Iroh can tell she's seen a lot of it. More than anything, they tell their story when they are silent: in the looks that pass between them when they think no one is watching.

They sit together in the quiet shade and _remember_.


	2. Where the Heart Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, searches end where they begin.

In Kya's absence, the palace seemed empty. The tiny, hot whirlwinds that she'd taken to setting loose in her mischievous, budding-bender's enthusiasm had all gone out. For this small mercy, the servants and the night-watch were grateful.

The Fire Lord was not.

"She'll hurt herself," Zuko said, fussing at one of his game-pieces without actually making a move. He had the annoying tendency to stall for as long as possible.

"Aang will make sure she doesn't," Katara reassured him, and then reconsidered the statement. "No, let me rephrase that: _Toph_ will make sure she doesn't."

"If she doesn't tip over face-first," Zuko muttered under his breath.

Katara threw one of his pieces that she'd captured back at him.

"Be nice. Look, if you're that worried, let's leave for Omashu in the morning."

"No," Zuko sighed. "She needs the time away from home, needs to assert her independence. I remember what that's like. Important. Character-building."

Katara covered his hand, ever mindful that his own exile hadn't been by choice.

"We could shadow one of the squadrons searching for your mother. That way, we'd at least have protection. June can escort us to wherever the closest one is camped."

Beneath Katara's fingers, Zuko's tapped the board in irritated rhythm for a few moments before stilling, turning upward to lace with hers. "No," he said. "My heart couldn't take it, not right now. We'll leave for Ba Sing Se in the morning."

Katara grinned. Of all Zuko's bizarre relations, she was fondest of Iroh.

~*~

In Smellerbee's absence, the Jasmine Dragon was understaffed. The dear girl had been elated to hear news of a cousin who had survived the war, so she'd set out at once for the place that she'd once called home. Longshot had knelt and kissed her, asked her not to stay away too long. He'd packed her some rice-cakes for the road.

"Of course not," she'd whispered, and kissed him back.

Being a sensible proprietor, Iroh wasn't the sort to advertize when he required help. 

He knew a keen eye and a steady pair of hands when he saw them, and, three days after Smellerbee's departure, he _did_. The woman was slender, almost frail, but by no means bent by her years. To Iroh's mind, she was younger than she looked: a face deeply lined, perhaps, but her eyes were fierce and clear. She'd been a victim of the plague, no doubt, with her hair veiled and all but her forehead, eyes, and the stately bridge of her nose covered in dull rose-colored silk. She ordered the house blend.

And her voice, her _voice_.

No small thanks to it—to _her_ —business picked up again in no time. She was stern and gentle by turns, depending on what the clientele required. She handled young children and drunken rascals with equal grace, one thing that couldn't be said for Smellerbee. Iroh was certain they'd have made a fine team when the girl returned, if only...

Oh, if _only_ she'd stay.

The royal entourage turned up a week later, bearing gifts and letters from home.

"These are from Azula," said Zuko, handing over a sizeable bundle.

"She'll make a fine writer one day," Iroh said. "All this practice she's getting!"

"Kya blended some tea for you," Katara sighed. "But she brewed and drank it all."

"As well she should have," replied Iroh, leading the Fire Lady inside. Zuko brought up the rear, fuming quietly; manners were something he still neglected from time to time. "There are some people I'd like you to meet," he said.

Longshot bowed, too terrified to speak, but Katara took him by the hand.

Tearfully, Ursa smiled at her son, beckoning him home to her arms.


	3. Holiday Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because you're Fire Lord doesn't mean Iroh won't still order you around.

The Jasmine Dragon has one house rule, and it's this: Fire Lord or not, Zuko is still required to work the odd shift when visiting. And it's clear that Zuko has not forgotten the Art of Grumbling any more than he's forgotten the Art of Blending Tea.

"Cardamom," Iroh instructs, pointing to yet another unmarked clay pot. "Just a pinch."

Zuko adds it as he's instructed. Four year-old Kya clings to his calves, giggling.

"I don't understand how you can tell one spice from another. They _all_ stink."

"You'll learn eventually," says Iroh. He offers the pot to Kya so that she can sniff it.

"It's different from the other ones, Dad! Even a dummy knows that."

"Well, then," Zuko says, stirring the dry blend too fiercely, "I'm a dummy."

"Uncle Iroh, what's next?" Kya asks, hopping impatiently.

"Cinnamon," Iroh tells her. "For warmth against the cold."

"It's warm enough in here as it is, old man," Zuko sighs, wiping his forehead.

"Be nice!" Kya shouts, stomping on his toe.

"Be _quiet_ ," Zuko counters through gritted teeth. "You'll disturb the customers."

"Two Holiday Specials?" asks Smellerbee, timidly peeping around the corner. "They're getting impatient. I can't give them any more free food, or they'll tell the whole city we're handing out sweets by the bucketful! Can you speed those along?"

"Coming right up," Zuko mutters, smiling when he realizes Iroh has fetched hot water.


	4. Subtle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, some things (and some people) never change.

"Here's what she's done with your old bedroom," Ursa said, slowly opening the door.

For a few seconds, Zuko just stood on the threshold, blinking. The moth-eaten silk curtains had been replaced with new ones, dyed ten times as brightly as before. They were all drawn back to let the light spill in, held in place by still more silk sashes. She must have spent half the fortune he'd allotted her already, what with the way _her_ room had been decked out. The chandelier alone must have been thousands.

"It's too bright in here," Zuko said, testing the new carpets under his feet. "And the floor's too...squishy. Where did she get these? Did Mai send them from Ba Sing Se?"

"Yes," said Azula, suddenly behind him. "She did." Her voice dripped venom masked as kindness. "Stay a while, brother. Kya's off at bending school, isn't she? Why not send for your beautiful queen? The bed's big enough for two."

Zuko turned to face her, concealing his clenched fists in his voluminous sleeves. Ten years, ten _years_ since her defeat, and still she could get a rise out of him.

"I'll tell Mai you like the carpets," said Ty Lee, bounding over to the bed with Azula in tow. The two women collapsed in a tangle of long hair and longer limbs, laughing.

Ursa's hands lit on Zuko's shoulders: feather-light, yet comforting.


	5. From the Annals of the Library-Keeper of Wan Shi Tong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Immortality has its advantages (some of which are drawbacks).

_Of the removal of sand from the South Tower: Kitsune-Ryu reports a delay on account of Rodent Spirits' Guild insurrection. If intervention required, most certainly a job for Himself Himself. Rats fear owls, or so I'm told. Or so I've read? Cannot recall._

_Of the repairs necessary to the Fire Nation Wing: Still smells of smoke._

_Of the books lost to pilfering in the past decade: Cannot write fast enough._

_Further to the removal of sand from the South Tower: That blind brat did a lot of damage. Insurrection quelled. Was a job for yours truly._

_Of my prospects for some higher appointment: Nil. But am the only one with relevant degrees on the premises, and therefore content. Have proposed the founding of Wan Shi Tong University. Awaiting approval. Quite fancy a turn as Provost._


End file.
